Ballet fight
by Rose-Rowena
Summary: Stupid Vega! Stupid Vega with her stupid girly DNA. I should have known that Vega can only produce offspring as sweet, shining and annoyingly happy as she is. (One-shot, future fic.)


_Disclaimer: I am no male, so therefore I can't be Dan Schneider. So that means I don't own Victorious or anything related._

_A/N: I recently discovered the amazing Jori-Universe. After reading quite a lot of stories of other wonderful writers, I decided that it was time to try to contribute to this outstanding fandom by writing a story myself. I hope you enjoy_

_Let me know what you think of it._

* * *

**Jade's P.O.V.**

Stupid Vega! Stupid Vega with her stupid girly DNA. I should have known that Vega can only produce offspring as sweet, shining and annoyingly happy as she is. Believe me when I say that I tried to make our daughter Alyssa, or Liz as I like to call her, more like me. Dark, dangerous and scary to be precise.

When she was born I gave her, her very first pair of scissors. They were made of real silver and it had her full name and date of birth engraved.  
I made sure she wore at least as many black clothes as Tori put her in pink ones.  
I told her horror-themed bedtime stories when it was my turn to read one to her.  
And I made her a lot of bloody pancakes, they are my infamous pancakes covered with strawberry jelly in case you wondered.

I even made sure that I gave her the West-genes. Well not directly mine, because Tori is her biological mother, but as close as they get to mine. My younger brother, Damian, volunteered to be a donor. His DNA was running through my daughters veins.

But despite the West-genes and my influence in her life, our daughter ended up as girly as they get. I mean her favorite color is pink, she likes everything related to those dreadful Disney-princesses and today she announced that she wants to take ballet lessons.

The fact that Liz wants to take ballet lessons is the reason for the argument Tori and I are about to continue. To continue indeed, all I need to do is wait for my pregnant wife to come back again. She left fifteen minutes ago to tuck our daughter in. But also, and I quote her: "So you can calm down and think about the real reason why this is bothering you so much".

* * *

It takes my wife another ten minutes before she finally walks down the stairs.

"Have you calmed down now?" She asks while walking down the stairs and towards the sofa I am sitting on.

I frown, I cross my arms and make some huffing noises as an answer to her question.

"You haven't." She states and exhales loudly.

"Look." She starts and she sits down right next to me, with enough space left between us for her to let me know that she is disappointed with my behavior. I hate it when she does that, it makes me feel like I'm a child. "We agreed on it, that when Alyssa turned five, she would be old enough to choose one afterschool activity herself. She choose ballet Jade. What is so wrong with that?"

I look into my wife's coffee-brown eyes and say "Everything is wrong with ballet!" much louder than I intent to.

Tori starts to bite on her lower lip, something she always does when she tries to understand something but fails at it. She looks down on her hands and then whispers barely loud enough for me to hear it. "I don't understand."

It is so quiet that I know I can pretend that I didn't hear it. I even consider doing it, but I decide against it. So I open my mouth, hoping that my mouth will come up with an explanation on why I am so upset with this for I don't really know. All I know is that it bothers me beyond believe.

"I want what's best for her." I say and sigh relieved that I came up with an answer.

"And ballet isn't good for her?"

I nod as response.

"Why not?" Tori asks confused and she starts to bite her lower lip again. Her eyebrows are frowned together and I can almost hear her think.

"Did you ever had ballet lessons as a child?" she asks me.

I shake my head as an answer. I never had. My parents hate everything related to art and creativity. So I never had the opportunity to take ballet lessons.

"O." she says. That obviously wasn't the answer she had hoped for, I can hear it in her voice. But she probably thought of something else because her face lights up a little before she speaks. "Well I had and I turned out the be okay, right? So ballet can't be all that bad." Tori tries to joke, to lighten the mood.

Somehow her saying this snaps something inside me, I stand up and yell "Well of course, as long as she looks like you everything is fine. As long as she looks like you, and not like your crazy wife, everything should be fine."

She looks at me with a shocked expression on her face.

"What?" She asks shocked "Jade, that is not what I meant at all."

I know that she doesn't mean it like that but my insecurities take the upper hand.

"Of course you do, everybody thinks so. You are perfect, so our children better look like you. Well I hope you're happy because Liz looks exactly like you!"

"Baby." Tori says sweetly and she gets up from the sofa so she can look me in the eye.  
I growl as a response to the pet name she is addressing me with.

"Baby." She repeats, I swear she does it to piss me off even more. "What are you talking about? You are the most amazing wife anyone could ask for and you are a wonderful mother." She lifts her hand slowly, gently cups my cheek and softly smiles at me.

I know she tries to bring some comfort with this gesture, but it doesn't help, so I step away from her touch. I look at her and I see tears form in her eyes. She is trying hard to swallow the tears away, but she succeeds.

"You don't have to lie to me Tori. I know other people think that it's a blessing that Liz is so much like you. Hell, even our friends think so."

"What makes you say Alyssa is so much like me?" Tori asks. I wonder if she is really that stupid or if she's playing stupid.

"Really Vega? She is the spitting image of you! She has your Latina-tan, your gorgeous cheekbones and your skinny figure." Tori snorts softly at that, looking at her growing belly. I ignore this and continue. "She has your nose, your hair and when she grows up she wants to be a singer just like you. She is like a mini-Tori."

Tori gently grabs my hand, leads me back to the sofa so we can sit on it again. She holds onto my hand and makes a circling movement on the back of my hand.

"She looks like you too, she has your amazing green-blue eyes and she has your lips. And…"

She tries to comfort me with those words, I know, but it isn't helping. I pull my hand back and interrupt her "She doesn't have them from me Tori, she's got them from Damian."

Tori suddenly gets a twinkling in her eye, a twinkling she only gets when she starts to understand something.

"Is that what this is about?" she asks me.

I look at her confused.

"What are you talking about?"

"It has nothing to do with her taking ballet lessons, has it? It has everything to do with your insecurities. That you think that you aren't her mother."

"I don't only think that, it is also true. I am not her mother."

"Yes you are! You are her mother, your name is on her birth certificate. You and I are both her mothers. Hell Jade, she calls you Momma, what more evidence do you need?"

I sigh. "Fine, so by law I am her mother. But I am not a good one. I am a failed mother."

"But.." she starts but I cut her off. "No, really Tori, I am. I mean why else would she try so hard to not look like me."

Tori looks at me with a confused expression on her face. Honestly she is so dense sometimes.

"You know children do that. Try their hardest to not look like their parents, because they hate them. In case you forgot, I did it with mine." I explain to her.

"You didn't only do that because you hate them, you are different than your parents. Or do you want me to believe that you only became a successful scriptwriter to prove to everyone that you don't look like your parents?"

"Of course not, I became one because I love writing. I would've done it even if my parents approved of it."

"So maybe, Alyssa picked ballet because she really likes dancing. Maybe it has everything to do with who she is, instead of who we are, who you are."

I understand where she is going with this, and I really want to believe it. But there is still a voice in the back of my mind telling me that it isn't true. I don't know what to say, so I decide to keep my mouth closed.

"I think she picked ballet because she does look after you. I mean, you keep telling her that she needs to be true to herself. You teach her how to make her own decisions."

"You really think so?" I ask hopefully. I really want this to be true.

My wife smiles slightly, she knows she is getting through to me.

"Yes, I really think so. Want to know why?"

I nod.

"Well, when I brought Alyssa to bed she cried and asked me if you were mad at her. She said that when her picking ballet made you upset, she wanted to do something else."

"She really said that?" This time it is up to my wife to nod.

I am shocked to hear this. She really wants to pick something else because she doesn't want to upset me. The fact that she wants to do that makes me feel special, but it also makes me feel very guilty. I want what's best for my daughter, and what is best for her is that she can be whoever she wants to be. So if that means that I have to take her to ballet lessons every week, than I am willing to do that.

A tear is slowly running down my cheek and my wife wipes it away slowly.

"What did you say to her?" I ask.

"I told her that you had to get used to the idea. Like how she needed to get used to the fact that she was going to have a baby brother." I put my hand on her growing belly and stroke it gently. "We talked about how she didn't really like getting a brother when we told her, but that she is now very excited about it." She puts her hand over mine, leans forward and gently kisses my cheek.

"We also talked about how you always tell her to stay true to herself, to choose for what she believes in and for what she wants." She smiles at me. " Alyssa then said: Then I want to take ballet lessons, so Momma will be proud of me that I choose what I really wanted."

"She really said that?"

My wife nods and I feel myself smiling while my heart swells with pride.

"I swear that girl is too smart for her own good"

"That she is, just like her Momma."


End file.
